


and love, I find, has no considered end

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [185]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Oblivious Merlin (Merlin), Schmoop, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 12:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20008426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: The end of winter brings a change to Merlin and Arthur's relationship.





	and love, I find, has no considered end

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Elizabeth Jennings' _Into the Hour_ , which you can read [here](http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2008/02/sudden-sunlit-hour.html).
> 
> Please do not repost elsewhere or list my fic on Goodreads (or any other similar spaces).

Arthur’s quiet tonight. Merlin has his head buried in the crook of his neck, waiting, listening to the sound of Arthur’s breath. He knows something is coming but he’s not sure what, not sure whether to stand still or get out of the way. Arthur’s fingers are on his spine, tracing the bones there over and over like he’s trying to memorise their shape. Finally, Merlin says, “What is it?”

Arthur, to his credit, doesn’t pretend not to understand what Merlin means. “Winter’s over soon.”

He’s not wrong; Merlin has noticed the way the sky has begun to grow lighter in the evenings, the slight hint of warmth in the crisp air. He’s been hoping that Arthur would remain oblivious for a while longer, but of course the prince has probably been watching for the change in seasons as attentively as he has, though perhaps with a greater sense of anticipation.

“Yes,” Merlin says. No sense denying it. Arthur’s fingers twitch and then flatten out against his lower back, sending fine tremors through his skin. Merlin’s cock stirs, but he wills the arousal away. “Not long to go, now.”

Arthur’s mouth ghosts over the tendon at Merlin’s throat, not kissing it exactly—more like the suggestion of a kiss, a promise that makes Merlin shiver for real this time. “You’ll be leaving.”

Merlin isn’t sure whether this is meant to be a question or a statement. Or perhaps an order. He rolls off Arthur’s chest and stares at the canopy, the rush of cool air against his skin a stinging foretaste of what nights will be like once he is no longer warming Arthur’s bed. “I guess so.”

They’re both quiet, then. There’s something in the air between them, sharp as frost, but Merlin is too afraid to ask what it is. Too afraid that he will turn out to be wrong.

Arthur clears his throat. “We could—” he starts, and Merlin’s pulse flutters. “I mean—do you _want_ to leave?”

There’s no hint of what Arthur would like the answer to be, other than the fact that he’s asking the question at all. It might mean nothing. It might be simple curiosity, or some lingering trace of insecurity, the need to know whether Merlin has enjoyed his stay in the prince’s bed. Maybe Arthur’s just being his usual arrogant self. Only—Merlin knows that’s not what this is.

“No,” he tells the bed-hangings, without turning his head. He can feel Arthur looking at him but he can’t look back, doesn’t want to know what’s going on in his expression. Just saying the words feels like some kind of transgression, like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “’S kind of nice here.”

There’s a smile in Arthur’s voice. “Only kind of?”

“Well.” Merlin stretches slowly, letting his foot slide along Arthur’s calf. “ _You’re_ here, so that’s a bit of a downside. But the mattress is quite comfortable, and the sheets are soft.”

Arthur’s fingers find his ribs, and Merlin’s response is closer to a squeak than he feels comfortable admitting. He squirms, and Arthur drags him closer, his mouth seeking Merlin’s lips and kissing the laughter from them. “Brat,” Arthur says, but it sounds fonder than he perhaps meant it to, his cheeks flushed pink when he meets Merlin’s eyes. “I’m trying to ask you if you want to share my bed indefinitely, and your only response is, ‘oh, the sheets are soft’?”

“Was that an invitation?” Merlin mocks back, raising his eyebrows. “I thought you were fishing for compliments. If you want something from me, Pendragon, you know you’re going to have to ask first.”

Arthur heaves a dramatic sigh, as if to say, _the impertinence_. But when he settles closer, his smile has shrunk, half frightened, and Merlin’s breath stutters as he registers that _this is real_. “Will you stay with me?” Arthur asks, low and intense, and Merlin is answering before he even really thinks about it, arching up to kiss Arthur’s mouth, cupping the beloved face between his palms.

“Yes, oh, yes, Arthur,” he murmurs, and Arthur laughs, shaky and breathless. “Arthur, always.”


End file.
